


You're My Joy, Always Remember Me

by takemehome21



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/M, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Unresolved Romantic Tension, kind of, leap year au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-27
Updated: 2017-02-27
Packaged: 2018-09-27 04:58:51
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 15,170
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9968516
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/takemehome21/pseuds/takemehome21
Summary: Clarke goes to Dublin to propose to her boyfriend on Leap Day. When her plan gets a bit off track the last person she expects to run into is Bellamy, her childhood best friend, whom she hasn’t spoken to in six years. And she definitely doesn’t count on him offering to take her to Dublin.Leap Year AU





	

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Never Forget You by Noisettes.
> 
> So I really love this movie but I don’t like how the leads are strangers and somehow fall in love in the span of like two days so I changed it so that Bellamy and Clarke knew each other from when they were little up until their teens and then they lost communication in their early twenties. So they’re kind of strangers since they haven’t spoken in six years but they’ve known each other long enough for there to be legit feelings there. 
> 
> Anyways, here it is!

“Ready to be humiliated?” Clarke asks from where she's laying on the floor in front of him.

“I can make a comeback,” Bellamy mumbles, keeping his eyes on his board.

“You really can't, Bell. She's got you beat,” Octavia says, peeking over at Clarke's board.

Playing Battleship has become their weekly tradition. Since Bellamy's mom always works the night shift on Fridays, Clarke comes over to hang out and help him with Octavia and whenever doing their homework was particularly boring they'd pull out Battleship and play. Now they don't even attempt to do their homework. When Clarke gets there they eat and then the tournament starts.

“Octavia you're supposed to be on my side. I'm your family!”

“Sorry, I don't associate with losers,” she quips and moves so she's sitting beside Clarke, no longer sitting neutral between the boards.

“Fine. Would you call it out already Clarke?”

“Hmm,” Clarke says as if she's actually contemplating where to strike. “E4.”

Bellamy picks up a red pin and aggressively sticks it into the only open spot on his last ship.

“I’m going to need to hear you say it,” Clarke says with raised eyebrows.

“You sunk my battleship.”

“I sunk all your battleships. Therefore I win this game and the tournament, making me Battleship Queen!”

Bellamy sighs and rolls his eyes. He acts like he’s upset he lost but he’s fighting back a smile _really_ hard. He can’t help it that Clarke is unbelievably cute when she wins. It doesn’t even bother him when she gloats and mocks him mercilessly.

He starts taking the pegs out of his sunken ships and puts them back in their container. After a few seconds of victory dancing, Clarke does the same. Octavia just sits back and watches them clean up because she’s Octavia.

“O, go put the box in the closet,” Bellamy says once they’ve fit everything back into its packaging.

Octavia does as she’s told but drags her feet and groans while doing it, shouting expletives when the box won’t fit right in the closet.

“Sometimes I wonder how she got to be such a little shit.”

“She learned from the best,” Clarke says, smirking at him as she follows him from the living room to the kitchen.

“Very funny. Why am I still friends with you?” He asks before he looks through the cupboard to find something for them to eat.

“Because you love me and you’d be lost without me.”

“Oh yeah. I forgot about that!” Bellamy says with fake enthusiasm.

Clarke leans against the counter and watches as Bellamy looks at the few items in the cupboard. The shelves are so scarce and it makes her feel terrible when she thinks of her own cupboard at home that can barely close because it has so much stuff in it.

“Why don’t you let me order a pizza? Think of it as a consolation prize since I embarrassed you in front of your little sister,” she says, keeping her tone light.

Bellamy has a lot of pride when it comes to other people buying things for him and Octavia. But he knows Clarke well enough that he knows she’s not pitying him. And he’s thankful when she phrases things like this so it doesn’t make that irrational part of his brain go into overdrive.

“I do deserve it. Since you ruthlessly destroyed me,” he replies with a small smirk.

Clarke smiles back, lifting one eyebrow as she picks up the phone from the counter. Bellamy turns away from the cupboard and leans his elbows on the opposite side of the counter so he can face Clarke.

“Wow, I’m surprised you’re admitting it.”

“Well, I am turning 18 soon. I figured it was time to be mature and admit defeat.”

That gets another smile out of Clarke. Bellamy has basically made it his life’s mission to get her to smile more and the rush he feels inside when she smiles just for him is inexplicable.

“You are something else, Bellamy Blake,” Clarke says.

They stare at each other for a minute, not saying a word. Bellamy feels like this moment is where they’re finally going to address what they’ve been clumsily dancing around for months now. He opens his mouth to say something about them, exactly what he isn’t sure, he’s just going to wing it.

Then the doorbell rings. It effectively ends Bellamy’s courageous streak and Clarke stands up straight, startled by the chime.

“I’m just going to go answer that,” Bellamy says, awkwardly stepping around the counter to walk past Clarke.

Clarke nods and watches him go, taking a deep breath when he’s out of the room.

As Bellamy opens the door Octavia comes up behind him and places her hand on his shoulder. An officer is on the other side of the door, her face expressionless.

“Are you Bellamy Blake?”

“Yes,” Bellamy responds hesitantly.

“I’m sorry to inform you that Aurora Blake was killed earlier this evening in a car accident.”

Bellamy can’t hear anything after that. He feels Octavia’s hand drop from his shoulder and he staggers backwards into her small frame. He turns quickly then, reaching for Octavia and bringing her close. They hold each other in a tight hug and Bellamy thinks he’s the words “instantly” and “drunk” and “police station” but his head is spinning too fast to make sense of anything.

Through his tears he sees a blurry Clarke talking to the police officer before shutting the door and turning towards him.

Octavia whimpers into his chest and Bellamy squeezes her tighter.

“It’s going to be okay,” he whispers, voice clogged with emotion.

He catches Clarke’s eyes over Octavia’s shoulder and she has a hand pressed over her mouth. With her free hand she motions towards the door, signalling that she’s going to leave. Bellamy shakes his head and lets out a chocked “stay” before a sob works its way out of him.

Bellamy’s head is fuzzy and throbbing and spinning all at the same time but he makes out Clarke coming towards them and slowly ushering them towards the stairs.

“Go upstairs and get into bed. Be with each other, I’ll clean up down here and bring you guys some stuff later,” Clarke says softly as she reaches up to stroke his arm.

Bellamy nods and shifts so he can pick Octavia up and carry her upstairs.

“Just don’t leave. Okay?”

“I won’t,” Clarke says. “I’ll be up in a few. And I’m so sorry, Bellamy.”

He shoots her what he hopes is a smile and starts up the stairs before more tears can blur his vision.

Bellamy doesn’t remember what happens between lying down on his bed with Octavia snuggled into his chest and the morning but he wakes up with a massive headache and the bed sheets over him and warm bodies on both sides of him.

“Go back to sleep,” Clarke murmurs into his back.

Bellamy turns his head only getting an eyeful of blond curls before shifting onto his back so he can see her fully.

“You’re still here,” he replies, swollen eyes trying to focus on her face.

“I told you I would stay,” she says and goes to grab something off his nightstand. “Put this on your face. It’ll make you feel a tiny bit less shitty.”

She hands him a face towel that’s wet and warm and he dabs it over his eyes before wiping his whole face.

“I also have water and some Tylenol and I was just about to go make breakfast. Any requests?”

“Clarke, you don’t have to do this,” Bellamy says.

“I want to. I want to help you guys in any way I can so just tell me what I can do.”

Bellamy reaches in between them and finds Clarke’s hand, squeezing it once.

“You being here is more than enough.”

Clarke smiles and presses a kiss his shoulder before quietly getting out of the bed so she doesn’t disturb Octavia who is still sleeping.

“I’ll go get started on pancakes. Wake Octavia when you smell the glorious aroma that comes from my pancakes,” she says, ruffling his curls quickly then she starts walking away.

Before she can get far Bellamy sits up and grabs her hand.

“Hey, thank you. Seriously, you’re amazing.”

“I’d do anything for you, you know that. Just like you would for me,” Clarke replies.

She rubs her thumb gently over the top of his hand and he smiles at her, watery and shaky.  He wills himself not to cry. He’s been crying for too long and he needs to show strength for Octavia. But Clarke’s words strike something deep inside of him and it brings on a fresh wave of emotion.

“Lie back down, relax. I made a list last night of some people you have to call, things you need to take care of and such. But we can talk about that later,” Clarke says and squeezes his hand before letting go and walking out of the room.  
  


* * *

  
“What?”

“I know you heard me.”

“You guys are moving. To _Ireland_. Immediately.”

Clarke gets up from the couch and starts pacing in front of him. Bellamy tries to grab her arm and bring her back down beside him but her movement is too erratic.

“Octavia’s paternal grandparents are the only family we have and since Octavia isn’t 18 for another two years she has to live with them or else it’s foster care and you know better than anyone else that wherever she goes I have to follow,” he says for the fifth time that night.

He told Clarke two hours ago that in a couple of days he and Octavia will board a place to Ireland to go live with Octavia’s grandparents. They should’ve been out of the country already if he’s being honest with himself. Aurora’s funeral was three days ago and the living arrangements had been finalized a few days before that. His best guess is that people are taking pity on them because losing a parent is hard enough but having to leave everything and everyone behind to go live in another country is another story.

“You keep saying that but it still doesn’t make sense to me.”

“Clarke, c’mon,” Bellamy pleads.

He really does not want to keep talking about this. He’s upset enough already, having this conversation with Clarke is making it so much worse.

“No, you c’mon. How long have you know?” Clarke asks crossing her arms over her chest.

“A couple of days,” he says and at her look he continues. “Okay, five days.”

She stops pacing at that. He knows he should’ve told her sooner but he was hoping that the longer he went without telling her the bigger chance there would be that the arrangement fell through and they would stay.

“Why did you wait so long? I could’ve had five extra days of full on Blake time to try and make up for the time you’re going to be gone!”

“I didn’t know how,” he says softly. “I’m not a fan of this either. Trust me, I’d much rather stay here and have custody of Octavia myself but it isn’t possible.”

Clarke plops down beside him on the couch again and rests her head on the back of the couch. She blindly searches for his hand and laces their fingers together when she finds it. Bellamy turns his head to look at her and sees tears leaking out of her closed eyes.

“How selfish am I?” She asks after a moment of silence. “Here I am crying about you leaving me when your mother just fucking died and you have to pack up your entire life and move to another continent.”

“You’re not selfish. If the roles were reversed and you were the one moving away I’d be a wreck so don’t worry about it.”

“I’m just going to miss you so much.” After a beat she says, “And Octavia.”

“I’ll miss you too. But it’s not like this is the end. We’ll still talk over the phone and on the computer and we can even write each other letters and be really old fashioned,” Bellamy says and puts his other hand on top of their clasped ones.

Clarke smiles at that. She can picture her and Bellamy writing letters that are ten pages long even though they’ll probably talk online every day.

“Plus, your parents are loaded so every summer they can send you to Ireland and we can spend two whole months together,” Bellamy adds with a smirk.

A laugh escapes her and she leans over to rest her head on his shoulder. Being close to Bellamy like this, touching him, grounds her and makes her feel calm and safe. She doesn’t know how she’s going to survive only seeing him through computer screens for the foreseeable future.

“They’ll probably want to come with me so that’ll cut down significantly on my Blake time,” she sighs.

“As long as we get to see you.”  
  


* * *

  
Their flight leaves two days later.

Clarke comes to the airport after spending the last two days basically attached to Bellamy and Octavia. For a second Bellamy wishes that she would’ve just stayed at home because leaving is going to be so much harder with her at the airport.

But he also wasn’t ready for their goodbye the night before to be the last time he saw her in person for who knows how many months or years. And neither is Clarke so she volunteers to drive them to the airport.

Bellamy has been stalling because he knows Clarke can’t come with them very far through the airport unless she has a valid reason and gets a gate pass from the airline. But ‘seeing your best friend off as he and his little sister travel across the Atlantic to go live with their grandparents’ probably isn’t the best reason.

“I guess this is it,” Clarke says, looking down at her watch. “You’ve stalled enough that if you don’t go now you’ll probably miss your flight.”

Bellamy presses his lips together and looks over at Octavia. Her bottom lip starts to quiver and Bellamy feels like he’s been punched in the stomach repeatedly. Octavia turns quickly and launches herself at Clarke nearly knocking them both over with force of the hug.

“I’m going to miss you so much,” Clarke whispers into Octavia’s hair.

“I wish you could come with us,” Octavia says through tears.

Bellamy watches them while fighting back tears of his own. He’s not emotionally prepared for this goodbye, it hasn’t even fully happened yet and he’s already on the verge of breaking down.

“We’re going to text all the time and video chat and I’ll call like every day and in the summer I’m going to visit you guys,” Clarke says, pulling back from the hug to look at Octavia. “It’ll be like you guys never left, I promise.”

Her eyes flicker up to meet Bellamy’s over Octavia’s head and he smiles as best as he can.

“Good,” Octavia replies and pulls away from Clarke.

The three of them stand in silence for a moment waiting for somebody to make the first move. After a minute Bellamy can’t stand it anymore and he steps forward to wrap his arms around Clarke. Once they’re pressed together, clutching and each other’s shirts, Clarke lets out a sob that makes Bellamy’s heart ache.

“Bellamy,” Clarke whispers. “You’re my best friend, I love you so much. Please don’t ever forget that.”

Bellamy squeezes her tighter and chokes out, “I love you too.”

Her hands move up to his hair, finger combing through his curls. They’re swaying back and forth and holding each other so tight it’s a shock that they’re still breathing.

“I know time zones suck but we’ll make it work, right? Every free moment we’ll be talking to each other through whatever means necessary,” Bellamy says softly.

“You’ve never been able to get rid of me before. You moving across the Atlantic isn’t going to change that,” she responds.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Octavia clears her throat behind them and they reluctantly part.

“I hate to be the bearer of bad news but we need to go like right now,” she says with a frown.

Bellamy turns back to Clarke and lifts his hand to wipe the tears off her cheeks.

“See you later,” he whispers with a sad smile.

“See you later, Bellamy,” she murmurs before more tears leak out of her eyes.

Octavia and Clarke exchange goodbyes while Bellamy grabs their suitcases and carry-ons. He waves to Clarke one last time before he and Octavia start walking towards their new lives.  
  


* * *

  
They’re two hours into the six and a half hour flight and Bellamy and Octavia have basically been crying the entire time. Though Octavia’s tears have slowed down in the past hour, Bellamy feels worse with every minute that goes by.

“Bell, you have to calm down.”

“I’m trying but then I look out the window and all I can see is the fucking ocean and realize that we’re moving away from Clarke and I start freaking out all over again.”

Octavia wipes her eyes and cheeks then grabs his hand.

“It’s just my luck that we’re going to live on another continent right when Clarke and I were on the verge of –” Bellamy hiccups and squeezes her hand. “The verge of _something_. And now nothing will ever happen.”

“When I turn 18 we’ll move back and you guys can pick up where you left off. I’ll get a job and so will you and then at the end of two years we’ll have enough money saved up so that we can go back, get an apartment and get back to our old lives,” she says hopefully.

That makes Bellamy cry more than he was before.

“O, don’t worry about me. I’m just being dramatic, it’s what I do,” he says.

“I’m always going to worry about you because I care about and love you.”

Bellamy smiles at Octavia and she grins in response then leans her head on his shoulder with a sigh.

“We’re going to be okay.”  
  


* * *

  
It doesn’t take long for them to get settled in.

Octavia’s grandparents are nice and treat Bellamy as if he’s their grandchild too. Octavia starts at the local high school right away and Bellamy finds a job and a few online university courses he can afford to take that start a month after they arrive. Plus Ireland is full of interesting history so Bellamy doesn’t hate it as much as he thought he would.

He texts Clarke pretty regularly during the week and then on weekends they talk on the phone or Skype if they’re both not busy and it’s still a reasonable hour of the day. It’s hard but they make it work and Octavia joins him during their video chats sometimes and it’s good.

“I was super lucky and got a single,” Clarke says one day at the beginning of September. “Or maybe my mom bribed the housing people.”

She’s almost done unpacking all her stuff into her dorm room but she couldn’t wait to show Bellamy so Skyped him right after her parents left.

“Both are plausible explanations. Either way you have a nice room and don’t have to worry about getting a roommate that’s a psycho or messy or annoying.”

She carries her laptop around the small room showing him every nook and cranny of the place. Just by hearing her voice he can tell she’s insanely happy and it brings on a fresh wave of longing.

“When do your online classes start?”

“Next week,” Bellamy says. “I’m a little bit nervous.”

“You’re going to do so well, Bellamy. Trust me on this one.”

His laugh rings out as she flops onto her bed, smile seemingly unable to leave her face.

“How do you know that I’m going to do well?” He asks and leans back in his desk chair with his arms crossed over his chest.

“Because I know you and I believe in you.”

They talk regularly during Clarke’s first year of university and even though she doesn’t visit in the summer their friendship is stronger than it’s ever been.

It’s during her second year that the communication starts to taper off on Clarke’s end. She stops accepting his requests to Skype and her replies to his texts are short and cold and Bellamy is a wreck. He writes her multiple letters and gets no reply.

“Anything from Clarke?” Octavia asks as he walks in with the mail one night after work.

“No.”

He tosses the mail on the kitchen table in front of Octavia, grabs a cookie from the plate on the counter and walks out of the room to go upstairs. With every passing day it seems like his bad mood gets even worse.

“I don’t understand what happened. Why would she stop talking to us?”

Octavia follows him up the stairs and when he doesn’t reply she follows him into his room.

“Bell, c’mon. Talk to me,” she says and sits at the foot of his bed.

“I don’t know, O. Maybe she found better friends at school or she’s got a lot of homework and doesn’t have time to talk to us all the time,” he replies gruffly as he takes off his work clothes to change into sweatpants.

“So does this mean we’re not going to move back home next year?”

Bellamy’s head whips around and he scrunches his eyebrows together in confusion.

“Why would you say that?”

“I thought we were going to move back so you could be with Clarke,” Octavia says softly.

“We can still go. We’ll move wherever you want. Or we could stay if you want,” he says hesitantly.

She pauses for a moment and fiddles with the bracelet on her wrist that he made for her last Christmas.

“I wouldn’t mind staying. It’s nice here.”

Bellamy nods and says, “Yeah, it’s really nice.”  
  


* * *

_  
Six Years Later…_

Clarke is so confident that Finn, her boyfriend of three years, is going to propose to her and they’ll get their dream apartment that she starts telling people at the bar just to brag. She’s relaying the information to the guy sitting on the stool next to her when she hears a loud gasp behind her.

“My daughter is engaged?” Jake shouts as Clarke turns around on the stool.

Clarke cringes at the loudness but immediately replaces the expression with a smile for her dad. She hasn’t seen much of him in the past six years because his job comes with a lot of travel. After he and Abby got divorced when Clarke was twenty he found a job doing what he loved that also allowed him to travel the world like he always wanted to. And Clarke hates that she resented him for so long for taking off and essentially sticking Clarke with her mom.

“So where is the lucky guy?” He asks and hugs Clarke from behind before sitting on the stool next to her.

“He’s packing. He has a conference in Dublin this weekend,” she replies and takes a sip of her beer.

“Well it’s a good thing Finn finally came around or you would’ve had to follow him to Dublin this weekend. It is Leap Year you know.”

Clarke groans and looks around the bar hoping nobody is listening to them.

“Please don’t tell that story again,” Clarke says with a sigh. “It’s just some family myth.”

She’s heard the story so many times that she could probably recite it in her sleep.

“It’s the honest to god truth! That’s what grandma Jane did to grandpa Tom. They’d been dating for a while and he was dragging his feet so she suggested that they take a visit to the old country. February 29th, Dublin, Ireland, she hits him with it. Boom, ring on finger! Signed, sealed, delivered.”

He smacks the sticky bar top with his fist and grins at Clarke before stealing her beer and taking a large gulp.

“Well I’m not going to have to pull a grandma Jane,” she retorts.

 _Thank god_ , she thinks.  
  


* * *

  
Clarke says goodbye to her dad and heads to a nice restaurant downtown where Finn made a reservation for them. She can barely hold her excitement in as she walks inside because she just _knows_ that he’s going to propose.

So when he hands her a little velvet box that turns out to be earrings her disappointment is very clear.

“They’re earrings. For my ears,” she says, frown forming on her lips.

Finn doesn’t notice, of course, because he’s too engrossed in his phone.

“I’m so sorry Clarke. I have to go in to work. I’ll pick up my bag and go straight to the airport when I’m done,” he says and leans over to kiss her cheek before walking away from the table.

After paying the cheque Clarke goes straight home and starts researching.

She watches countless videos of women proposing to their boyfriends on Lead Day and pulls up websites with all kinds of historical information on the tradition. Her dad’s words are on repeat in her brain and she’s hoping reading up on the subject will make it go away.

**Leap Year proposals are an old folklore tradition that dates back to the fifth century.**

“Sure,” she scoffs at the attempt to give the stupid act some validity.

She reads that the tradition is that in Ireland a woman can propose to a man on February 29th, only one day every four years.

“That’s ridiculous,” she says heatedly. “A woman can propose to a man any day of the year if she wants to.”

Yet Clarke packs her bags and books the next available flight to Dublin to go propose to her boyfriend.  
  


* * *

  
The plane ride there is smooth until they start flying over Ireland. Then the turbulence starts and Clarke curses everything in sight. The plane ends up landing in Wales because the airport in Dublin is closed due to the storm.

The airport in Wales is full of frantic people trying to get information but somehow Clarke manages to get to the front of the line to talk to the two workers at the front desk.

“One ticket to Dublin please,” Clarke says politely.

“No flights until tomorrow,” the first lady at the desk responds.

“No flights until tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow Madame,” the lady at the desk confirms.

“Tomorrow,” Clarke says again.

“I think that’s what I said. Wasn’t it?” The first lady at the desk asks her fellow employee.

“That is what you said,” the second lady confirms.

“That’s not going to work for me,” Clarke says before taking a deep breath. “I’m going to Dublin to propose to my boyfriend on the 29th. _Leap Day_. It’s an old Irish tradition. So between us girls I think you can see why I need to be there today.”

One of the ladies turns to the other and says, “Will you ring Dublin International Airport and have them open a runway for Madame?”

“Right away,” says the other before they both turn to look at Clarke with fake smiles plastered on their faces.

Clarke glares and them and walks away hoping to find some other way to get to Dublin.

Since the ferries are also not running Clarke finds a small fishing boat with a captain that’s willing to take her to Ireland despite the storm.

The water is rough and Clarke immediately regrets her decision to step foot onto the boat.

“We’re going to have to go into Dingle,” the captain yells over the crashing waves.

“But I paid for Cork!” Clarke yells back.

Just as she finishes talking a particularly forceful way hits the boat causing it to rock precariously.

“Okay,” Clarke says. “Dingle will do.”  
  


* * *

  
The tiny boat drops Clarke off on the beach, not even bothering to find a dock to let her off on. So now she has to walk through the wet sand in her heels.

By the time she gets into the small town of Dingle she’s soaking wet, tired, has sand in her heels, and is more than a little bit pissed off. There’s only one business with lights on so that’s where she goes.

When she gets closer she notices that it’s a rundown bar – _or is it a pub? They call them pubs here right?_  – and inside there are only a few people sitting at the counter. Nobody is behind the counter and Clarke looks around the place to see if there’s an employee hanging around. When she sees no one she turns back to the bar and picks up a business card for a taxi service.

“Great, my battery is dead,” she says once she takes out her phone to call the taxi.

One of the old men sitting at the counter points behind her and Clarke sees a payphone attached to the wall. She smiles at the man and digs some change out of her purse.

After the first ring someone picks up.

“Hello,” she says in a cheery voice. “I need a taxi to Dublin.”

“From where?” The voice answers.

“Oh, I’m at some funny little pub named the Cara… Um, Caragh,” she trails off with a laugh.

“I don’t take blond Americans,” the person on the other line says and Clarke’s eyebrows furrow in response.

“How do you know my hair colour?”

The men at the bar laugh and she turns around to see a man walking out from what she assumes to be the kitchen with a phone to his ear.

Clarke’s breath catches in her throat and her eyebrows shoot up in shock. It’s been six years since she last saw him, and that was through a computer screen, but she’d know that messy mop of dark curls and smattering of freckles anywhere.

“Bellamy,” she breathes out into the payphone.

He just stands there, expression blank while the patrons of the bar laugh. Then he forcefully presses the end button on the phone and slams it onto the bar.

“I can’t believe it’s you,” Clarke says as she walks towards the counter. “It’s been so long.”

Bellamy scoffs and leans over to press his elbows into the worn out wood of the bar. _It’s only been so long because you ended all communication between us_ , he thinks bitterly.

“Would you be able to take me to Dublin?”

Clarke looks at him with a hopeful expression. She can’t believe that the small town she just happened on is where Bellamy works and most likely lives. It feels a lot like fate and –

“I wouldn’t take you there even if you offered me 500 euros.”

She recoils at his harsh words. Bellamy just stares at her, eyes cold and unmoving. Clarke opens her mouth to say something but nothing comes out. She’s never seen Bellamy act like this towards her and it sends her into shock.

“Jesus, I’d sell my wife for 500 euros,” the old man sitting to her left says.

“Believe me, you would have few takers,” his friend retorts.

Once she’s recovered from the shock of Bellamy’s words Clarke says, “Well it’s late so if any of you could direct me to the nearest hotel or bed and breakfast.”

She stops talking when she sees the amused looks the patrons of the bar are exchanging.

“Of course. This is also the hotel.”

Bellamy comes out from behind the bar and leads Clarke to a vacant room. He says something about the toilet needing to be flushed twice but Clarke’s too busy looking around at the bar/hotel to really listen.

He opens the door to what will be her room for the night and sets down her suitcase beside the single bed.

“Can we talk?” Clarke asks before Bellamy can make a quick exit.

“No,” he responds bluntly.

“Bellamy,” she pleads, taking a step closer to him.

He backs away from her and says, “I’ll make you a sandwich.”

Then he’s darting out of the room and stomping down the hallway. He’s not even mad at her, which he has every right to be, he’s mad at himself for feeling happy that she’s here in his bar and spending the night and wanting him to drive her to Dublin.

Back in the room Clarke is reaching under the bed to plug her charger into the socket. After minutes of struggling she finally gets the charger to slot into the socket.

Then there’s sparks flying from the socket and the lights in her room and the hallway go out. Clarke jumps back from the bed and knocks into the bedside table which sets of a chain reaction of falling furniture that destroys the room.

From the kitchen Bellamy sees dust and bits of ceiling fall onto the bar and into people’s glasses before the lights go out. He sighs and finishes up Clarke’s sandwich in the dark before stomping to her room. When he gets there she’s standing in the middle of the room with all the furniture either broken or knocked over with some damage.

“What the hell are you doing?” He asks, glancing around the room with a horrified look on his face.

“Plugging something in,” Clarke says nonchalantly.

Bellamy sets the sandwich on the one piece of furniture she managed to not break and shakes his head at her. Clarke looks down at her phone hoping the two seconds she had it plugged in for managed to get the battery percentage out of the red. The presses on the home button, the lock button, and the volume buttons but nothing happens. She gasps and looks up at Bellamy.

“You fried my iPhone,” she accuses.

“You fried the whole village!”  
  


* * *

  
The next morning Bellamy wakes up early to meet the debt collectors. He knows he doesn’t have enough money and the debt collectors probably know he doesn’t have enough money but he walks out of the bar with confidence.

Three men are standing next to a van with arms crossed and expectant looks.

“It’s time to pay up,” one of the men says and walks towards Bellamy.

“Give me a month,” he replies.

“A month? A week.”

“A week? Ten days, 900 euros guaranteed.”

“A thousand, Bellamy,” the man says sternly and Bellamy knows there’s no room for haggling.

“Fine, you have my word,” he says and then spits on his hand.

He holds it out for the other man who spits and then shakes.

Clarke watches the interaction from the window of her room with interest, wondering what the hell was going on with him. When Bellamy turns back towards the building she jumps away from the window and starts changing out of her pyjamas.

She’s in her bra and underwear when Bellamy barges in without a knock or a shout.

“C’mon let’s do it,” he says with a smile.

Clarke looks at him like he’s crazy. He was yelling at her last night and now he’s coming into her room all cheery.

“I’ll drive you to Dublin.”

She picks up a sweater from her suitcase and covers her half naked body with it.

“Would you get out?” She asks, cheeks colouring.

“It’s nothing I haven’t seen before,” he snips but turns away anyways. “500 euro like you said, yes or no?”

“Well you obviously don’t want to spend time with me or talk to me or anything so I won’t inconvenience you.”

Bellamy clenches his jaw and presses his lips together so he won’t say everything he’s wanted to say to her for six years about _certain people_ not wanting to talk.

“It’s not an inconvenience,” he says instead.

“Fine you can take me to Dublin. Now get out, I need to get dressed,” Clarke says sharply.

He nods and leaves the room and Clarke relaxes again. She pulls the sweater that was covering her away from her body to finish getting dressed. But of course that’s when Bellamy decides to disturb her once more.

“It’s a hundred for the room and that includes the vandalism,” he says with a smirk and leaves her in silence once again.  
  


* * *

  
Bellamy pulls up in front of the pub in a tiny red car that looks barely big enough for two and like it’s about to breakdown any second.

“Please tell me that’s the car that will be taking us around the corner to the _actual_ taxi,” Clarke says, hands on her hips.

“I’ll have you know, that is a Renault 4. She’s classic. Rock solid,” Bellamy says with his head sticking out the window.

“Yeah, none of those fancy airbags to get in the way.”

She walks around the car to put her suitcase in the trunk and when she gets into the passenger seat Bellamy cranks the radio and they begin their journey.

Clarke notices that Bellamy’s eating a hamburger that looks really good and she wills her stomach to not grumble in hunger. She hadn’t had breakfast that morning because she didn’t know if the kitchen was open and she didn’t feel like walking around town in search of a diner.

Bellamy switches from the radio to a CD and blasts a Clash song. She shakes her head at him but he doesn’t even notice. It’s not that she doesn’t like The Clash, she does, but she was hoping that they could talk during the car ride. It’ll take them more than 6 hours to get to Dublin, that’s plenty of time to sort out whatever issues Bellamy has with her.

“Maybe we’ll get there before the shops close,” she says to kick start some sort of conversation.

“That’s why you’re going to Dublin? To shop?” Bellamy asks with a sour look on his face.

It’s been less than 24 hours and Bellamy is already sick of this pod person version of Clarke. The Clarke he knew and loved wouldn’t take a trip to Ireland to go shopping and wouldn’t be wearing designer clothes with high heels and acting like she’s better than him.

She shuts off his music and says, “I’m going there to propose to my boyfriend.”

Bellamy side eyes her hard for a moment before looking back at the road. He takes an aggressive bite of his burger and forces himself not to look at her.

“He’s at a conference there, he’s a veterinarian. I thought he was going to propose the other night but he didn’t,” Clarke trails off, leaning her head against the window.

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah and you guys have this kind of sexist but still kind of nice tradition that a woman can propose to a man on the 29th of February in a leap year.”

“Yeah?” he says with (fake) enthusiasm.

Clarke looks at him in shock. She didn’t think he would be happy about this but she’s going to just roll with it.

“Yeah,” she replies cheerfully.

They start laughing and Clarke feels like it’s eight years ago, driving in Bellamy’s mom’s car when he got his license, windows down, singing along to whatever song came on the radio. It’s nice and Clarke hadn’t realized just how much she missed him.

“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard,” he says, continuing to laugh.

But it doesn’t feel nice or like old times anymore, it hurts. So Clarke stops laughing as he chuckles from the driver’s seat.

“If your man wanted to propose he would’ve done it already,” Bellamy says.

She scoffs and she snatches his burger from his hand. She forcefully throws it out the open window and laughs at his horrified expression. In retaliation he turns up the volume of the stereo and stares smugly at the road in front of him.

Clarke glances between him and the stereo quickly and makes a decision. While Bellamy is distracted by the road curving she ejects his CD and throws it out the window just like she did with his burger.

“No one touches the music!” Bellamy yells and slams on the brakes.

He’s so frustrated with her and it’s been less than a day in her company. He doesn’t understand why she thinks they can just go back to fighting over the stereo like they did when they were teenagers. And he doesn’t know why she’s acting like nothing happened between them, like she didn’t break his heart when she stopped calling and writing.

So Bellamy puts the car in park and gets out, needing some space to breathe and relax. He walks off to the side of the road and places his hands on his head. When he turns around after a few minutes he realizes that Clarke is standing behind him and talking. He only catches the end of her sentence but it’s enough to set him off again.

“– If you would just talk to me!”

He shakes his head in disbelief. _So now she wants to talk, couple years too late_ , he thinks.

“I have nothing to say to you Clarke.”

“Unbelievable,” she mutters. “You are bitter, cynical and a loner.”

“Better than being an idiot,” he spits.

She flinches and with a nod of her head turns to go back into the car. What greets her is a herd of cows standing in front of the car, blocking the road. Clarke starts talking to them, telling them to move and waving her arm to shoo them away.

“Come on, move it,” she says while tentatively trying to push some of them out of the way.

“It comes as a big shock to find out that you speak fluent cow,” Bellamy says through a mouthful of apple.

He’s still standing at the side of the road, eating an apple that he pulled out from his jacket pocket.

To their surprise the cows start to move and Clarke turns to Bellamy, smirks and says, “Ha!”

She’s not watching where she’s going, too caught up in the excitement that she got the cows to move. Her foot slides on something warm and the wet sound it makes almost brings bile up her throat.

Bellamy laughs and takes another bite of his apple. Taking Clarke to Dublin won’t be so bad if she continues to do stupid crap that’ll make him laugh.

Clarke groans and leans on the hood of the car to try and scrape the cow shit she stepped on off her shoes. It works for about five seconds and then the car starts rolling backwards and she struggles to stay upright.

Bellamy watches in horror as his car rolls down the hill the road is on and into a pond.

“You couldn’t just wait for the cows,” he yells.

“You couldn’t just help me,” she yells back.

They stare each other for a minute and then Bellamy turns sharply to go assess the damage to his car at the bottom of the hill. He hears the sharp tap of her heels against the pavement as she follows him.  

“It’s going to cost at least 200 to tow it and it’s not coming out of my pocket it’s coming out of yours,” he says when they reach the bottom.

Clarke comes to stand beside him and they cross their arms over their chests at the same time.

“Like hell, you’ll have to kill me before I pay you a dime.”

“There’s an idea.”

Her arms drop to her sides and she turns to walk back up the hill. She’ll walk to Dublin if it means getting away from his terrible attitude.  

“I can’t believe we’re back to this,” she mumbles as she’s walking away.

They used to be like this all the time when they first met. They would snap at each other and throw insults like there was no tomorrow. But they grew up and realized that they were so much better as friends. Clarke knows that they haven’t talked in years and it makes her sad but she thought they could pick up where they left off.

Bellamy runs after her and says, “Cool your jets.”

Clarke, being true to herself, doesn’t listen and continues walking down the road. She doesn’t know where she’s going, doesn’t have a paper map and her phone probably doesn’t get reception here, but she keeps going anyways.

Bellamy follows behind her at a distance, giving them both the space they desperately need.

A train station comes into view and Clarke nearly starts running she’s so excited.

They reach the station and the old man behind the counter tells them the next train comes in two hours so Bellamy and Clarke buy their tickets and go to wait outside. Clarke sits on a bench that faces the train tracks, determined to get on the train and not delay her trip any further.

“Ballycarbery Castle. One of the ten wonders of Ireland,” Bellamy says, looking at the expanse that’s behind her.

Bellamy suggests they kill time by going up to the ruins of the castle but Clarke is not going to risk missing the train just for one of the ten wonders of Ireland.

“Suit yourself,” he says and walks away from her.

A dog comes out of nowhere and plants itself beside Clarke and she goes to pet it. Usually dogs love her but this one didn’t get the memo and starts barking at her, baring its teeth.

“Bellamy, wait for me!” She calls and jumps up from the bench and starts running towards him.

The walk up to the castle is mostly silent save for the few comments Bellamy makes about the scenery. It’s a steep climb and Bellamy knows he’ll be sore from it but the view is worth it.

“So what’s the deal with the bar? Is it yours?”

Her gentle tone surprises him so he glances over at her, confusion marring his face. She meets his eyes and shrugs before the corner of her lips quirk up slightly.

“It was O’s grandparent’s place but they left it to me when they died. I spent a lot of time working there when they were alive, learned the ins and outs, so they thought it would be fitting for me to take it over.”

“It’s a nice place,” she says. “I like that it’s not just a bar. The inn is a good addition, stops people from driving home drunk.”

Bellamy smiles and looks down at the grassy incline. He thinks that they might be able to fall back into the friendship they used to have.   

“Thanks, it was my idea. I also want to turn it into a restaurant but it’s expensive and I’m not sure if that’ll go over well with the clientele.”

“Once they taste your food they’ll get on board.”

“Maybe, we’ll see,” he replies. “Want to hear the story of this castle?”

“Of course,” Clarke says.

Bellamy talks about the history of the castle for the rest of the trek up the hill and the time they spend walking through the ruins. They’re overlooking the valley below the castle when they hear the train blow its horn.

“Shit!” Clarke yells and she starts running out of the castle and down the hill.

The second she hits the grass of the hill thunder claps and it starts to pour. Bellamy watches from the top of the hill as Clarke tries to run down the now muddy slope.

She ends up slipping and rolling all the way down the hill and Bellamy can’t help the laugh that escapes him.

“Well that speeded things up a bit,” he says and slowly walks down the hill.

They reach the train station just as the train is pulling away from the platform. Clarke curses herself for getting so swept up in Bellamy and the story of the castle that she missed the last train of the day.

“Don’t worry dear,” the station attendant says when he sees tears well up in her eyes. “We’ll get you to where you want to go.”

She leans against the side of the train station and wills herself not to cry. Bellamy shares a look with the attendant and shrugs.  
  


* * *

  
It turns out that the man working at the train station runs a bread and breakfast with his wife just a short walk from the train station.

Clarke is more than a little excited to take a shower and put on some clean clothes.  And having separate rooms will give her and Bellamy some space to figure out how to deal with each other for the rest of their trip.

“You’re lucky,” says the man’s wife when she sees the state Bellamy and Clarke are in. “Not half an hour ago I had two backpackers at the door wanting a room.”

She pauses and looks at her husband and then at Bellamy and Clarke.

“But they weren’t married. And they admitted it right out, no shame,” she says as if it were some great crime for a man and a woman to not be married to each other.

Clarke can’t imagine the lady’s reaction if she finds out her and Bellamy aren’t straight.

Bellamy watches Clarke’s hands curl into fists by her side and he has to fight off a smile.

“So, it’s mister and missus?” She asks, looking at them expectantly

“Griffin,” Clarke says at the same time Bellamy says, “Blake.”

“Griffin-Blake,” Clarke clarifies as she wraps her arm around Bellamy’s and snuggles into his side.

“Wonderful,” the lady says. “Let’s get you to your room.”

She takes off down a hallway and Clarke disentangles herself from Bellamy to follow.

“After you angel,” he says with a smirk.

“Thank you, sunshine.”  
  


* * *

  
The bed is barely big enough for Bellamy let alone the both of them. And they can’t very well ask for another bed or a blow up mattress because they’re supposed to be married.

They stand at the end of it for a good minute before Clarke says, “We’ll flip for it.”

She searches through her purse for a coin and when she finds one she raises her eyebrows in a challenge.

“Heads I win, tails you lose,” Bellamy says.

Clarke nods and flips the coin into her open palm. Her face falls when she sees the head staring up at her.

“Heads,” she says dejectedly.

Bellamy smirks and flops down onto the bed, making himself comfortable.

“You can sleep in the bath,” he says and waves her off.

Clarke goes to pull the curtain away to reveal the bathtub but all she sees is a shower stall. Confused, she turns back to Bellamy who’s looking at her with a smug expression.

“It’s a shower.”

“You can sleep in the shower then,” he says with a wave of his hand and settles back onto the mattress.

With a huff Clarke goes into the stall to take a shower. She’s soaked and muddy and she has to spend the night with Bellamy who obviously hates her now so she’s going to relish in the little victories. Like a hot shower and fresh clothes.

Bellamy laughs from the bed and starts taking off his boots and socks. But he stops when the shower turns on because the shower curtain that looks completely opaque is actually pretty translucent and he can see the outline of Clarke dancing underneath the shower head.

He laughs quietly as he listens to her sing and gets changed out of his own wet clothes.

He’s just about to fall asleep when the shower curtain rips open and Clarke comes barreling out in nothing but a towel.

“You lying, deceiving son of – get up!” She says while pulling on his leg.

“Woah!” He shouts, kicking his leg out so she’ll let go of it.

“Heads you win, tails I lose?”

“Oh, finally got that did you? Good for you,” Bellamy says as he stretches out from the like two seconds of sleep he got.

“This is my bed,” Clarke says when he finally gets up. “Liars forfeit.”

She smiles to herself, triumphant and proud.  She turns to him and says, “Shower. You smell.”

Bellamy shakes his head no.

“You can see right through the curtain.”

“Can you?” Clarke says with a raised eyebrow as if he’s crazy.

When he smiles Clarke’s mouth drops open.

“Bellamy, can you?”

“Okay, okay! Liars forfeit,” he says with his hands up.

He runs into the shower and Clarke is left standing there dripping from her shower and feeling conflicted. Should she be mad that Bellamy saw her through the curtain? Or should she be glad? Because she looks pretty good naked if she does say so herself.

She doesn’t dwell on it though and focuses on picking out a nice outfit and not the fact that Bellamy is naked and showering less than ten feet away. And that she could see all of that just by turning her head a bit.

The owner comes in just as Bellamy turns the water off to say that they will be having tripe for dinner. When she finds out what tripe is she almost throws up and she swears she can hear Bellamy laugh from the shower stall.

“Why don’t you let me make dinner?” Bellamy asks from behind the curtain. “As a thank you for taking us in on such short notice.”

The woman tries to protest but she eventually relents when Clarke tells her how good a cook Bellamy is.

He can’t help but smile as he’s toweling off. He knows Clarke just doesn’t want to eat cow’s stomach but he gets warm all over at her praise. Just like when they were teenagers.

The lady leaves and he opens the curtain just a bit to let the steam out. And if Clarke happens to catch a glimpse of him in a towel then that’s just an added bonus.

(She does see him all muscular and wet from the hot shower. And she proceeds to walk into their bedroom door.)  
  


* * *

  
Once Bellamy is out of the shower and dressed they go outside to the inn’s garden and chicken coup. Clarke picks vegetables from the garden while Bellamy finds a nice chicken and kills it right then and there.

They make the meal together, in the inn’s small kitchen, and it’s good. It’s almost like no time has passed and it’s them in Bellamy’s kitchen back when they were teenagers.

Bellamy does most of the work of course, he’s the professional, but Clarke helps with the chicken and the easier side dishes. He knows that he shouldn’t be getting his hopes up about them rekindling their friendship because she’s only with him because she has no other options. But he really wants this to be the start of something.

“The chicken is wonderful,” says the owner once they’ve all settled in at the dinner table.

“Isn’t it?” Clarke says with a smile. “And I’m usually awful at chicken. Finn always says I make it too dry.”

She notices her slipup the second the words leave her mouth and she has no idea how she’s going to explain herself out of this one.

“Finn?”

“Oh, he’s um,” Clarke trails off, floundering for an explanation.

Bellamy places his hand on her thigh under the table and assures her with a smile that he’ll take care of it.

“He’s our next door neighbour,” Bellamy says coolly.

“Who sometimes comes over for dinner,” Clarke finishes.

The owners and the other couple staying at the bed and breakfast nod in understanding.

“He’s got a little thing for Clarke. It’s a bit cute actually, he’s quite like a child with a schoolyard crush,” Bellamy says.

To the other couples it sounds like nothing to be concerned about but Clarke knows it’s Bellamy’s way of subtly dissing her boyfriend who he doesn’t even know.

Clarke smiles slightly and puts another bite of chicken into her mouth so she doesn’t say something stupid.

Bellamy’s hand is still on her thigh and the heat of it is distracting. She looks over at him and he looks completely unfazed.

He’s not.

He’s basically freaking out on the inside. He doesn’t know why he ever thought this was a good idea. The owner is saying something to his wife about the bottle of wine being as old as their marriage but Bellamy’s not paying attention. Until the other people around the table turn their attention to him and Clarke.

“Sorry?”

“I kissed my wife. Stefan certainly kissed _his_ wife,” the owner trails off, insinuating that they want Bellamy and Clarke to kiss.

Bellamy turns to look at Clarke and her eyes are wide and bulging. So he leans forward and places a simple kiss to her cheek.

Clarke grabs his hand on the table and says, “that was perfect. Thank you.”

“C’mon! Kiss the girl,” he insists.

“They’re shy that’s all,” the other man, Stefan, says.

Bellamy and Clarke smile at each other, grateful for the other man stepping in.

“You’re young, married, _in love_. Anyone can see that.”

Bellamy takes a deep breath. This isn’t how he imagined his first kiss with Clarke to be but he’s sure as hell going to take advantage of the situation. Not only will it shut up the owner but maybe it’ll shut up his own brain and it’s different imaginings of how kissing Clarke for the first time would be.

“Okay,” Bellamy says more to himself than to the others at the table.

He gently puts his hand on Clarke’s cheek and leans in to kiss her. At first it’s just a chaste kiss, lips closed, hardly any pressure. But then Clarke’s hand comes up to grip his forearm and her mouth opens and Bellamy can’t help but kiss her harder.

After a minute Bellamy realizes that they’re in front of people and pulls away from her. They stare at each other, eyes wide, lips swollen, and cheeks red.  

The owner claps and the moment is over just like that.  
  


* * *

  
Later that night Bellamy is in the shower with a pillow trying to get comfortable on the damp floor.

He was going to wait until Clarke fell asleep and then sneak into the bed and be out by morning. But the light is still on in the room and he hasn’t heard her actually get into the bed yet.

Hoping that she’ll take pity on him he opens the shower curtain and puts on his best wounded puppy face.

“Show a little mercy.”

She looks him up and down for a minute and then says, “Fine. But one snore and you’re back in the shower.”

Bellamy smiles and jumps out of the stall while Clarke moves over to the other side of the bed.

“Who would’ve thought it’d take two days to get to Dublin?” She asks once they’ve settled.

Bellamy puts his arms behind his head and nods.

“I’ll have to charge you an overnighter by the way,” he says quickly.

“Surprise,” she replies.

“100 euro.”

“50.”

“75 it is. Running total, 675 euro,” he says with a snap of his fingers.

Clarke turns her head to glare at him.

“Fine. If it’s all about money to you then 675 it is,” she says and turns onto her side to face away from him.

Bellamy’s eyebrows furrow at her attitude but he moves to turn off the lamp on the bedside table and they exchange goodnights. He ends up on his stomach, head turned away from her.

He doesn’t know how long they’re lying there for. Clarke isn’t sleeping, he knows that for sure. She’s fidgeting and when Clarke is asleep she’s _asleep_. For some strange reason he finds himself shifting onto his side and then onto his back. When he finally gives into temptation and turns his head to look at Clarke she’s already looking at him.

They’re both startled and Bellamy turns to face away from her again and he’s guessing she does the same.  
  


* * *

  
In the morning Bellamy wakes up to the back of Clarke’s head and his hand resting on her bare arm.

For a second he’s worried about the position and if it’s too much considering she came here to propose to her boyfriend. But knowing Clarke, if this wasn’t what she was comfortable with she would’ve pushed him away even in her sleep.

So he smiles at her and lifts his fingers off her arm slowly, one at a time. He takes one more look at her before getting out of the bed and getting dressed.

He’s in a surprisingly good mood for having slept in a bed where his feet hung off the edge. So to keep the good mood going he decides to cook his favourite breakfast foods for him and Clarke to share together when she wakes up.

He even puts it on a tray.

And then he hears Clarke on the phone with her boyfriend.

“I can’t wait to see you,” she whispers into the phone.

Bellamy stops walking down the hall at the sound of her voice all longing and loving. He doesn’t know what he was thinking. That a couple days with Clarke after six years was suddenly going to revive what they had before.

“Aw Finn, that’s exactly what I needed to hear this morning,” she says with a squeal. “Everything is working out perfectly.”

Bellamy nods once and turns back to the kitchen.

He’s putting his boots on when Clarke comes in and spots the breakfast on the counter.

“Morning. Is this for me?”

Bellamy hums an affirmation.

“Good morning love birds!” The owner shouts as he walks into the kitchen wearing a robe. “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

“Off to Dublin for me,” Clarke says cheerily.

Bellamy takes a bite of an apple to keep his mouth occupied. Knowing him he’d say something rude and ruin their charade.

“Well you can’t do that,” the owner says.

“Why not?”

“It’s Sunday. No trains.”

Bellamy holds back a laugh while Clarke asks, “No trains? At all?”

The owner shakes his head no. Clarke hopes he’s wrong but seeing as he works at the train station she knows he’s right.

“I have to be in Dublin by the 29th.”

“Why is that sweetheart?” Bellamy asks sweetly.

He takes a bite of his apple and watches in amusement as Clarke searches for an answer.

“Frank, you have a car right?”

“Oh, yes,” he replies.

“I’d be willing to pay you a substantial amount of money if you would drive me to Dublin,” Clarke says.

“No,” he says and Clarke’s face falls. “It’s not the money, girl. It’s my wife. She’s got it. Gone to mass and the weekly shop.”

“And when she’s back?”

“Oh, she won’t be back long hours,” he says with a chuckle.

“What?” Clarke asks.

“It’s a fair old jaunt to Dublin.”

Bellamy stops mid-bite and watches as the pieces fit together in Clarke’s head. She’s missed her only opportunity to get to Dublin quickly and she didn’t even know it was an option.  
  


* * *

  
They set off on foot once again.

Bellamy’s thinking of charging her for the blisters on his feet after all this walking. He knows she can afford it and he needs the money.

She’s walking a bit in front of him and turns around suddenly and yells at him to “knock it off”.

He has no idea what she’s talking about so he shrugs and continues walking.

Then she does it again and he realizes what’s happening.

He points up to the sky and says, “Hail storm.”

And then the sky opens up and hail stones the size of nickels are raining down on them. Clarke starts laughing and Bellamy runs up behind her to guide her to shelter. The only place in sight is a little church so they run up the drive, breathing heavily and pushing through the doors.

“Jesus Christ!” Bellamy yells as they stumble through the door.

The sight of a bride and groom at the alter with a priest and people in the pews shocks Bellamy into silence.

“Is Lord,” Clarke finishes for him.

The weddinggoers look confused but the priest tells them to take a seat and he continues the ceremony. Bellamy and Clarke are invited by the newlyweds to stay for the reception just behind the church and they accept.

During the wife’s speech Bellamy gets up from his seat abruptly and walks out of the tented reception area.

Clarke follows and has to jog to catch up to him.

“Are you okay?”

“Well you know, it was hot in there,” he says, looking at the lake in the distance.

Clarke stares at him, unimpressed. The reception is outside. He just moved from one area of the outdoors to another. But she doesn’t comment on that.

She tries to get him to talk about what’s bugging him but he won’t budge.

“You’re not in America, you’re in Ireland. So have a drink and shut up.”

Clarke sighs and runs her hand over her face.

“Bellamy, please talk to me. We used to be so close and I want to know you more, and Octavia, and how you guys are doing. I want to know everything.”

Bellamy scoffs and says, “Well you only have yourself to blame for not knowing.”

“What does that mean?” She asks, eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

“You’ve already forgotten? I’m not surprised.”

“Would you just spit it out already?”

Bellamy lets out a harsh laugh and crosses his arms over his chest, gearing up for a fight.

“ _You_ stopped writing, _you_ stopped calling, and _you_ stopped picking up when I called or Octavia called. It sucked Clarke, it really sucked. You were my best friend and I needed you and you just ignored me.”

Her mouth falls open, tears threatening to spill down her cheeks. She opens and closes her mouth a few more times before deciding on what to say.

“Bellamy, I didn’t mean to. I am so sorry,” she says and takes a step closer to him. “I know it doesn’t change anything but my parents got divorced, it was ugly, and university was way harder than I expected. I was drowning.”

He looks away from her at that, knowing the feeling of drowning all too well.

Willing himself not to cry he looks at her again and says, “I could’ve helped you. I was here, always waiting for you to call. You could’ve talked to me.”

And then she lets out a sob, bringing her hands to her face to hide her tears.

“I know and I feel like an idiot,” she says, muffled by her hands. “You deserve better than me. What kind of person stops talking to their best friend just because they hit a bump in the road? A terrible person, that’s who.”

Bellamy steps into her space, putting his hands on her upper arms and rubbing back and forth to soothe her.

“You’re not a terrible person, Clarke. Could your communication skills use a little work? Yes. But that’s the case with practically everybody.”

That gets a laugh out of her. It’s a bit watery and shaky but it’s a laugh nonetheless.

“Point is, you hurt me when you stopped talking to me. But I picked myself up and I’ve made something of myself in a tiny town in Ireland. I’m good now and I hope you’re good too. And maybe we can move past this,” he says, squeezing her arms.

She moves her hands away from her face to rest on Bellamy’s forearms and takes a deep breath.

“I’m sorry Bellamy, for everything. I _will_ make it up to you. Just say the word and I’ll do whatever it takes,” she tells him.

He smiles at her softly and she looks down at their intertwined arms.

“I appreciate it but that’s not necessary.”

“Okay, I am sorry though.”

“I know,” Bellamy says. “Now let’s get back in there, the real party should be starting soon.”  
  


* * *

  
The sun is setting as they get back to the massive tent under which the reception is being held.

A band is playing on stage, the guests are dancing, and Clarke goes to sit at their table.

Bellamy stops behind her and just stares.

“Get up,” he says.

She turns around in her seat and shoots him a dirty look.

“There are no assigned seats when you crash a wedding, Bellamy. I don’t care if I’m where you were sitting before.”

Bellamy sighs and says, “Relax, Princess. I was just trying to ask you to dance.”

“Oh,” Clarke says, her mouth agape. “Well you didn’t do a very good job.”

He just stands there with one hand on his hip and the other outstretched to her.

“Fine,” Clarke says and puts her hand in his before getting out of her chair.

Bellamy has to practically drag her onto the dance floor and even with the roaring music she’s not dancing or at least bobbing her head.

“Get into the groove, Clarke.”

“I’m not a good dancer,” she says so quiet he can barely hear it.

He claps his hands and starts to do an embarrassing little jig.

“See? You can’t be worse than me. Let loose,” he says with a smile.

Clarke’s lips turn up slightly and then she’s full out laughing as Bellamy wiggles in front of her.

They start doing what she guesses is a traditional Irish dance since everybody but her knows the moves. But she learns fast enough with the help of Bellamy and other nice guests.

They get separated for a bit, both dancing with other people as per the rules of the dance. Then she’s being lifted off the ground and spun around. They’re going fast but she can make out Bellamy in the crowd clapping and smiling at her.

And then her heels flies off her foot and hits the bride in the middle of the forehead.

The music stops abruptly and people gasp in horror as they take in the nasty welt forming where her shoe made contact.

“Oh my god,” Clarke says once the guy puts her down.

She rushes over to the bride and apologizes like she’s never done before.

“I can’t believe that happened. Are you okay? I’m so sorry,” Clarke says, resting a hand against the table the bride is sitting at.

“At least it wasn’t my husband,” she replies with a laugh.

All the guests behind her laugh and Clarke joins in as well.

She lifts her hand off the table to put a hand over her heart in relief.

But her hand hits a wine glass that topples over and spills its red contents all over the bride’s white dress.

Cue the horrified gasps.

Clarke tries to speak but all that comes out is a squeak so she grabs her shoe and runs out of the reception tent.  
  


* * *

  
Bellamy finds her fifteen minutes later after he apologized to the couple and gave them some money to forget the whole Clarke debacle.

If nothing else it’ll be an interesting story to tell. Who else can say a foreigner crashed their wedding, assaulted the bride with her shoe and then spilled red wine on her wedding dress?

Clarke’s sitting on the pebbled shore of the lake. She’s got a bottle of alcohol in one hand and a glass in the other. But it looks like she’s abandoned the glass in favour of drinking straight from the bottle. He stands beside her and watches as the alcohol dribbles down her chin when she takes a drink.

“You a little drunk?”

She turns to look at him slowly, bottle held loosely in her hand.

“Oh, you’re here.”

“Keen observation,” he replies with a smirk.

Clarke scoffs and sets the nearly empty bottle down before standing up to face Bellamy.

“You’re a beast. You’re a real beast. And I cannot stand you,” she slurs, poking him in the chest with every word.

Bellamy raises his eyebrows and says, “Really?”

“But I’m on to you.”

“Is that right?”

She takes a shaky step forward, invading his personal space.

“Your beast – beasty-ness is an act, a great big massive cover up. You growl, you snap but you’re in pain,” she says and she rests her hand over his heart, warm and soft. “You’ve got a big thorn in your beasty paw.”

Clarke leans forward and looks at him with such intensity it makes his breath catch. Her eyes are so blue in the light of the full moon and Bellamy brings his hand up to brush the hair away from her face.

She rises to her toes to be level with him, stomach churning with the feeling of being so close to him and seemingly on the cusp of something big.

Bellamy tilts his head down a bit, trying to meet her halfway and –

Clarke bends over and throws up all over his shoes.

“Great,” he says with a sigh. “That’s romantic.”

Clarke groans and presses her head into his abdomen. Bellamy runs a hand over her hair and then bends down to lift her up.

“Bellamy,” she says and clutches her stomach.

He shifts her in his arms a bit, getting comfortable for the long walk.

“Just relax, Clarke. I’ve got you.”  
  


* * *

  
Clarke wakes up with a headache.

She’s horizontal on something uncomfortable and wooden and she thinks she’s outside. She opens her eyes, moving her head slightly to take in her surroundings.

And then she notices that her head is in Bellamy’s lap.

And that he draped his jacket over her.

They’re on a bench in front of the bus station and he’s sitting with his head thrown back in what must be an extremely uncomfortable sleeping position.

She sits up slowly, careful not to wake him.

After staring at him for a minute she stands up and lays his jacket over him to warm him up. She smiles at the sight of him, head back, mouth hanging open, and arms resting on the back of the bench.

Then she grabs her luggage and walks away.  
  


* * *

  
Bellamy startles awake at the sound of a bus driving away.

He jumps off the bench, his jacket falling to the ground. He tries to run after the bus, the bus that was supposed to take him and Clarke to Dublin. But it’s obviously Clarke went on her own.

“You’re joking me,” he says as he watches the bus turn out of sight.

He kicks a perfectly situated pebble and sighs as it doesn’t even go far.

“Perfect,” he says to no one.

Then Clarke walks up beside him holding out a cup of coffee.

“You can deduct the coffee from my bill,” she says with a smirk.

Bellamy’s head whips around to look at her, surprise and happiness washing over him. But before she can read his expression he slips back into character.

“Deduct away. But don’t forget to add on for the pair of shoes… _Puke-y_.”

Clarke laughs and pushes the coffee into his hand so she can take a sip of her own.

“You missed your bus,” he says and gestures down the road where the bus went.

“There’s another one in twenty minutes,” she replies and hands him a ticket.

“Oh, am I still going with you?” He asks nonchalantly.

“I paid you to take me to Dublin and you’re going to take me to Dublin.”

Bellamy nods and turns his head, watching as cars pass on the road in front of them. He takes a sip of his coffee to hide his smile.

When the bus comes twenty minutes later they stow her luggage and settle in their seats. Bellamy takes the window seat because Clarke never liked being boxed in and he assumes she hasn’t changed on that front. And when he sits down first he pretends he doesn’t see her sigh of relief.

“It’s a beautiful country,” she says halfway through the trip.

“Yeah, it’s pretty great. You’d have a field day drawing the scenery,” he replies and then realizes that he doesn’t even know if she’s still in to art. “Do you still do that? Art?”

Clarke shrugs, lips pulling down into a small frown.

“When I have the time I do. But that’s not as often as I’d like because it’s been hectic with my job and looking for a new apartment with Finn and now the proposal.”

“Right,” Bellamy says, the word short and cut off.

He nods and looks out the window to clear his head.

A few minutes pass in silence and Bellamy keeps his head turned away from her so he doesn’t say anything embarrassing like “screw Finn, stay in Ireland and do all the art you want”.

And then he feels a weight against his shoulder and sees that Clarke is asleep with her head resting against him.

Bellamy smiles at the sight. _Just like old times_ , he thinks.  
  


* * *

  
They reach their stop a little while later, Bellamy having to shake her awake as the bus slows.

“So I suppose I should pay you,” Clarke says once the bus drives away and they’re alone.

“Suppose you should,” Bellamy replies and crosses his arms over his chest.

He’s going for nonchalance because he really doesn’t want her to see how badly he doesn’t want her to go.

“There’ll be an ATM at the hotel.”

“Are we parting again?” Bellamy asks.

She’ll probably ask him to say here while she goes and gets his cash. Now that she’s in the city she can probably navigate herself. No need for him anymore.

“If you want to,” she says, not looking at him.

“I didn’t say that.”

She looks up at that and the corner of her lip twitches like she wants to smile but is stopping herself.

“We can get a cab,” she suggests and Bellamy snorts.

“You’ve got legs haven’t you?”

“My best feature so I’m told.”

Bellamy steps back and looks her up and down with his face drawn in confusion.

“Who told you that?”

Clarke huffs and whacks him with her purse before taking off in the direction of the hotel.

Bellamy follows with a smile on his face and a little skip in his step.

The hotel is fancy to say the least. Bellamy’s not surprised that this is where Clarke’s boyfriend is staying.

He’s taking in the sights around him – the fancy chandelier, the fancy bellhop, the fancy lounge with fancy TVs – when Clarke comes up beside him and holds out a wad of cash.

Bellamy stares at it for a moment before looking back at Clarke.

She extends her arm a little more, her hand almost hitting his chest.

“Do you still have the coin we flipped for the bed?”

“Uh,” she drawls, free hand going to rummage through her purse.

He watches her struggle for a minute before pulling the coin out of the depths of her purse.

“Here,” she says and hands it to him.

He takes the coin ignoring the cash in her other hand.

“Thanks,” he says and takes a step backwards.

“Wait,” she says quickly, hand reaching out to grab his wrist. “Take the money. You deserve it.”

“It’s okay, Clarke. Keep it for your new apartment or your wedding,” he replies, voice low.

“Don’t be stupid. It’s what’s fair so take it.”

“No.”

“Bellamy,” she warns.

“Clarke,” he says sternly.

“You earned this money. For what I put you through these last couple of days you deserve a lot more.”

Bellamy shrugs and says, “I don’t need compensation. I was just helping out an old friend.”

Clarke presses her lips together at that and looks down at her hand still gripping his wrist.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you. In fact I’ve done so many things that prove I _don’t_ deserve you yet here you are.”

He wiggles his wrist out of grip so he can take her hand in his.

“Listen, Clarke. We’re older now and more mature. Whatever crappy stuff happened between us before it’s all water under the bridge now.”

“You’re right. If you don’t mind,” she starts before losing her nerve a bit. Bellamy squeezes her hand to tell her to continue. “I’d like to keep in touch, if you want to. If not that’s completely fine.”

“Keeping in touch sounds good,” he says with a smile.

She smiles back and it’s like they’re teenagers all over again, best friends.

“Well, best of luck,” Bellamy says and lets go of her hand.

He curls his hand into a fist as he takes a step backwards and he shoves his hands into his coat pocket.

“See you later,” she says like she did all those years ago at the airport.

“See you later, Clarke.”

He turns away from her and walks towards the exit. But as he reaches the door he stops.

“Clarke,” he says as he’s turning around.

But she’s already looking at him. She probably never took her eyes off of him. It does something weird to his stomach and his heart so he takes a deep breath and takes a step towards her.

And then a man runs up to her, smiling like the best thing just happened to him. Since the man is looking at Clarke, Bellamy is able to connect the dots pretty well.

“What are you doing here?”

“I – You…” She trails off, eyes darting away from her boyfriend to look at Bellamy before focusing back on Finn.

“I just wanted to see you,” she finishes.

Finn laughs and rubs his hands up and down her arms.

“You’re amazing.”

Then he notices Bellamy standing off to the side and he looks at Clarke for an explanation.

“Finn, this is Bellamy. He helped me get from Dingle to Dublin,” she says gesturing between them awkwardly. “Actually, we grew up together but I had no idea he lived in Dingle. So it was a happy coincidence.”

Finn holds out his hand to Bellamy and they shake as he thanks him for getting Clarke to Dublin safely. And then it’s like Bellamy doesn’t exist anymore. Finn turns away from him and pulls something out of his back pocket.

A little black box.

Just big enough to fit a ring.

Bellamy feels all the air leave his lungs which is stupid because he knew Clarke only came here to propose to that guy. So why should Finn doing it first throw him for a loop?

He doesn’t want to know the answer to that one.

Finn gets down on one knee and opens the box to reveal an engagement ring nobody should be able to afford. Clarke’s mouth is hanging open as she stares at the ring.

Bellamy turns and leaves the hotel before he can hear her answer.  
  


* * *

  
Back in Dingle Bellamy and Octavia come up with a plan to save their pub and Bellamy tells her about where he’s been the last few days. And it’s safe to say Octavia wasn’t too jazzed when he told her he was with Clarke.

“She came in here soaking wet and needed to get to Dublin and was willing to pay. She’s always had money so I knew it wasn’t a lie and we needed money to save the bar so I volunteered to take her,” he says, flopping onto the couch.

“Yeah, I’m sure it was all about the money,” she mutters from the kitchen but Bellamy can still hear her.

“Don’t start this again, O.”

“Well, c’mon Bellamy,” she says, coming into the family room so she can glare at him. “Look at all the trouble you went to just to get her to Dublin and you didn’t even end up taking the money.”

Bellamy’s mouth opens in shock. He never told her he didn’t take it.

At his expression Octavia says, “We have joint bank accounts. I would’ve noticed a large sum of money suddenly in your account.”

He doesn’t say anything after that but it’s answer enough for Octavia.

“I knew it. Did you at least work things out?”

“I guess. She said she wanted to keep in touch but then it seemed like all she cared about was getting engaged.”

“I doubt that.”

“You weren’t there, you have no idea. The second her boyfriend showed up with a ring it was like I didn’t exist,” he says, putting his hands over his face.

“Bellamy we grew up with her, I don’t think she would change that much,” Octavia says softly.

She comes to sit beside him on the couch and starts to run her fingers through his hair.

“Well I doubt she’ll actually keep in touch now that she’s got a wedding to plan. So I’ll probably never see her again and now I can get back to my life and forget about this little interruption.”

“Okay, Bell. Whatever you want,” she says.

He lets out a sigh and tries to relax.  
  


* * *

  
They set their plan into motion the next day. And over the next week they manage to get the pub packed at almost every hour of the day.

It helps that they revamped their brand to include stuff other than alcohol and pub food. Now they’re a running like a real restaurant and bar and it’s amazing.

But then the debt collectors come back on day ten.

“You’re short,” the guy says after he counts the cash.

“Not by much,” Bellamy says.

“Sorry, that won’t cut it.”

“That’s not fair,” Octavia shouts at the guy and Bellamy puts a hand on her shoulder to calm her.

Then the regulars, people who’ve been coming in since Octavia’s grandparents owned it, start coming up to put their own money into the tin. And then it seems like everyone is taking out their wallets to give up some cash to save the pub.

Sure enough they end up having enough money to pay off the debt and keep the pub open.

Everyone cheers when the collector drives away and Bellamy announces that drinks are on the house.  
  


* * *

  
After that business is booming.

They actually have to turn people away most nights.

And Bellamy is happier than he’s been in a long time. He loves coming to work in the kitchen now that it’s not just him making sandwiches and burgers for a few loyal customers.

They don’t get many complaints. Actually they don’t get any. That’s why it’s a surprise when Octavia comes into the kitchen to say someone isn’t happy with the food.

“Bellamy, someone said the chicken is dry.”

“Dry? My chicken is fucking succulent, what is this person on?”

So he wipes his hands on his apron and takes it off, following Octavia into the dining room.

“Which one of you thinks my chicken his dry?”

The restaurant goes silent and Bellamy looks around with his eyebrows raised, daring the complainer to speak up.

Finally someone behind him says, “Me”, and Bellamy stiffens at the sound.

He’d know that voice anywhere.

He turns around slowly and finds Clarke standing up, alone at a table for two.

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Could you maybe be nice for a second I did fly 3000 miles to get here,” she says.

_Same old Clarke._

Bellamy nods and gestures for her to continue.

“Finn and I didn’t work out.”

“Sorry,” he says.

And he means it.

“If you only had sixty seconds to grab whatever was most important to you, what you needed the most, what would you grab? People say your choice says a lot about you. Well, when my 60 seconds came around, I realized I had everything I ever wanted, but nothing I really needed. And I think that what I need is here. And I came all this way to see if maybe you might think so too. And if you do... Well, I don't really have any plans past that, which is new for me. So, Bellamy Blake, here is my proposal. I propose we _not_ make plans. I propose we finally give this thing a chance and let it work out how it works out. So what do you say? Do you want to not make plans with me?

Bellamy opens his mouth to say something but quickly closes it and walks away back through the kitchen doors.

“I guess that’s an Irish no,” Clarke says with a strangled laugh and then runs out of the bar.

She walks down to the ocean as the sun sets on the horizon.

When she realized what she needed most she didn’t expect to end up crying on a beach.

Sure, she didn’t think Bellamy was just going to fall into her arms. They still had a lot of issues to work through. But she didn’t think he’d reject her without even saying a word.

She probably deserved it though. How she treated him all those years ago was not her proudest moment and if she could take it all back –

“Mrs. Griffin-Blake, where the hell are you going?”

She turns around so quickly she almost loses her balance.

And there’s Bellamy.

“You said no.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“Bellamy, you stormed off. That’s pretty universal for ‘no’.”

He sighs and walks towards her.

“I went to go get something,” he says and extends a handful of letters towards her.

“What’s this?” She asks, more confused than ever.

“These are letters I wrote to you but never sent. I guess they were more like journals since I never really intended on sending them. I just needed a way to get all my feelings off my chest,” he says in a rush. “I wanted you to read them so we can work out what happened between us.”

She takes the letters and grips them hard, pressing them up against her chest, right beside her heart.

“So, I reject your proposal. I don’t want to not make plans with you, I want to make plans with you,” Bellamy says.

“Really?”

“So, what do you say? Do you want to give this a go?”

“Of course,” she says, beaming at him before closing the distance to kiss him.

It’s so much better than what Bellamy had imagined. The softness of her lips against his, warm and inviting. Her arms around his neck, pulling him closer like she can’t stand to be even an inch apart. She pulls away slowly and Bellamy rests his forehead against hers, eyes closed in pure bliss.

“I love you,” she whispers.

Bellamy opens his eyes at that and stares at her with a smile on his face.

“For probably all of my life I’ve loved you but I didn’t realize it until I saw you again,” she finishes, rubbing her nose against his softly.

“I love you too, but I’ve always known it and just didn’t do anything about it because I’m an idiot,” he says.

Clarke laughs and leans up to kiss him again.

They have a lot of years to make up for.

But it’s okay, they’ve got the rest of their lives.


End file.
